The Wonderful World of Amestris
by Shenhua Phantom
Summary: WWOA equals amnesia, adventure, humor, romance, a pervy colonel, kitties, homunculi, ice cream, fish, shoes, trees, some fog, and one shirtless serial killer... basically, a little bit of everything. Prepare for the ride of your life.
1. Death By Chocolate

**HAHA! And you thought I was incapable of posting ANYTHING on here! Okay, most of you probably don't even know who the heck I am. Then why are you reading this? Because... You MUST. Yes... So... This is WWOA!! Enjoy. Hopefully... **

**Okay, alas, I cannot take all of the credit for this. I would just like to say that the Mary sections are written by Ohka Breynekai and the Ashley sections are written by myself. Ohka is too afraid to post it on her account too because she's a rule freak and a crappy rebel (as you will find out more about in this chapter.) So... What are you still doing reading this dang thing? Don't you know there is a story right beneath it where I don't ramble? **

**Ohka: Heylo the peoples! It's time for my rambling! (Take that Shenhua!) So, I know that this story has been written a bazillion gagillion times, some OCs being sucked into the FMA world (yes, that IS what happens, I warn you now) but I hope that by taking our time to make these chapters well-written and lengthy, and with the fact that there are no Mary-Sues (DIE YOU MARY-SUES!! DIIIEEEEE!!), our story will be super awesome and enjoyable. If not, boy we sure had fun writing it anyway! Rambling is done. Now read the story. READ IT! **

* * *

**_Chapter One: Death By Chocolate_**

**Mary  
**  
I saunter away from the school, barely registering it as my last moment of the tenth grade. I am doing my best to avoid the fact, not wanting to be plagued by nostalgic feelings or guilt from not saying goodbye to anyone.

They won't notice anyway. For one thing, I'm a day early to be finished with finals. It is one of the benefits of being a genius in your grade level. I only had to take three of the usual six or seven finals that most sophomores are faced with during the last week of school.

I try not to think about that too much either. I ashamedly admit to being a slightly superstitious person; I feel it is a crime to take something for granted, like it will be snatched out from underneath you. For isn't Greed one of the Seven Deadly Sins? That is why I always do too much work – every time I slack off, simply depending on my brain to carry me, I get kicked in the mouth. Hard work equals success. That is logically true. And God created logic. Therefore, should it be labeled as superstition or as a Christianly way of living?

But does it even matter what it's called? Another loop of unanswered questions…

Ah, I had two reasons why they wouldn't notice, didn't I?

I am nobody. A genius, but nobody nonetheless. I talk when spoken to. I have only salvaged three true friends within the last four years of school. I hardly show any emotion in class, nor do I answer questions. I'm not outgoing or brave. I am a perfectionist and afraid of being the 'wrong' sort of person. So I suppose you can say I am nobody by choice. For how can you mess up a nonexistent relationship?

So that is why I can walk away from the school without notice. I enter my mom's car without waving a cheerful farewell to any onlookers. I sit in melancholy silence as my family argues for the length of the trip home.

What a wonderful start to my summer vacation.

--

Three hours later, I slouch at the computer, my cheek lying against the cool wooden surface of the desk. I have just finished another chapter and posted it online, and within three hours to boot! It probably isn't much good – nothing good surfaces when I'm depressed – but it will keep my readers happy for the time being and give me one less thing to be stressed about.

Our house is silent. My sister is asleep, I think. Either that or she is at a friend's house. She has lost most of the attention my mind used to give to her. That's what happens when a person actively shoves someone else away: the other person gives up.

Nostalgia hits me like a knife in the gut. I can never get over how much has changed in our short lives. Oneesan and I used to do everything together, yet now she doesn't even want to see me. We grew up with the end result of two completely different personalities, me the bookworm and her the social butterfly. I always envy seeing sibling pairs that function like magic, in which the older sibling takes care of the younger one and cares for their well-being. Like Ashley and her brother, or Angel and her sister. Or my grandmother and her three sisters, who do practically everything together! How awful it is to care about a person who couldn't care less for you!

"The Pirates of the Caribbean" theme suddenly erupts from my cell phone, causing me to jump and hit my head on the monitor. Warily, I pull the thing from my pocket. I detest phones. The thing is only in my possession so that my mom can keep in touch with me on marching band trips. I have a heart attack almost every time it rings.

Speak of the devil…Calling me is 'The Other World', as I have labeled her and she labeled me.

I flip the phone open and quietly offer a "Hello," still lost in the mind-boggling conundrums of relationships and irony.

"_Mary!_" the earpiece cheers at me. She is always so happy. It blows my mind.

"Ashley!" I cheer back, mostly pretending but truly relieved to hear from her. I needed something to break me out of my thoughts before my entire night was ruined. "Wazzup?"

"_You never emailed me back_," she complains. I can almost imagine a pouting face on the other side of the phone.

"Sorry," I say, twirling back and forth in the computer chair, a fidgety and restless talker. "I forgot. I've been really busy."

"_Excuses, excuses_," she chides jokingly. "_So, what are you doing, besides not emailing me?_"

I laugh softly. "I just updated Empty Space. Chapter ten."

"_Man! I haven't even finished chapter five!_"

"And whose fault is that?" I pull out the keyboard again and glance at the clock on my mom's computer. Still another hour before she comes home. I have time.

"_Eh… yeah… about that…_"

I open my email account and read through the recent messages. There are in total 643 messages glaring bold at me, but they are mostly story alerts from the fanfiction website I hold membership to. Some date back to 2006. There isn't any need to worry about those, at least not now.

"_Mary!_" Ashley yells again. I note to turn down the volume on my phone. "_We should hang out this weekend, now that you don't have any homework._"

My difficult classes had always kept me from having free time. I handed out promise upon promise to my friends to spend time with them in the summer. _And so it begins._ I chuckle at the ominous sound of that phrase.

"Sure! I'll ask my dad about it," I say as I began to clumsily type a reply to her email with one hand. I never mastered the art of pinning the phone between your ear and shoulder. A klutz curse upon everything else. "I don't think we're doing anything… you gonna spend the night?" _Please say yes, please say yes._

"_Yep! And we'll have to go to our spot._"

"Of course."

Our 'spot' is an abstract-looking playground that was built in my dad's neighborhood a few years back. It reminds me of something from a Picasso painting. But we have managed to turn it into a clubhouse of sorts, Ashley climbing to the top of a tall metal fixture and me squatting on a giant rock, something a bit closer to the ground. It is the place where we hold our most important conversations.

"Guess what?" I ask, abruptly changing the subject.

"_You found an elephant that wanted to tap-dance with you?_"

One eyebrow slides up. "Eh... no... um, I don't have to go to school tomorrow!"

Ashley scoffs then. "_Why not?_"

I giggle at her false frustration and grin mischievously. "I finished my finals. Yeah, I was going to go watch the movie in science, but we own it, so I figured I might as well sleep in."

"_No fair,_" she pouts again. "_Ack, I've got to go now! I'll call you later, okay? And email me back!_"

"Okay, okay! Bye!"

"Bye!"

I sigh wistfully as I snap the phone shut and slip it back into my pocket. That girl always knows how to brighten my mood. I finish typing a rather spastic email to her and hit send, before meandering towards the living room for a comforting bowl of "Death by Chocolate" ice cream.

**Ashley**

I sit at my desk, sketching and shading the last bit of my drawing. Touching my eraser to my lips, I survey the paper I have just decorated with two tiny angel wings. _Why wings? _I ask myself. _Because I want to fly away… far, far away… And someday I will._

It's a promise I have been making to myself for a long, long time. I look up and reality hits me like a bird who thinks they're flying, just looking down in time to see the pavement. _Crash! So much for that…_

I shake my head in realization of how crazy my brain is. Then I smile, remembering that it is my favorite part about myself.

_This is my last day of school – my last final, even, _I reflect_._ I glance around at all of the students' serious faces, staring down at their finals, writing with determination and purpose. I look down at my blank paper and sigh. The final took me ten minutes, double checking and all. I have always been a straight-A student, never mind that I'm a complete slacker when it comes to school. But I figure that if I can keep my grades up and have a social life, why not? No sense in wasting every second of my life on homework. I sigh. Now all I can do is sit around and wait for my friend to finish.

_Bright side: This teacher will let us out early, meaning avoiding the whole sitting-in-a-boring-classroom-when-school's-over thing._

_Other hand: I have to wait on my friend, who I'm getting a ride from but is taking a very long time to complete the test._

I wait. When she finally finishes, we sneak out of the school and run to the swings. It is there, with the wind swooshing around me as I go down and up again, following the motion of the swing, that I finally feel I have those wings. The chains are broken and I soar.

--

I arrive at my empty house laughing, glad that I have friends that are nearly as crazy as I am. I walk in and the door creaks shut. I stand in the silence for a moment. I used to find this silence a bit eerie, but it's become pretty normal for me now; getting home when no one else is here. I've actually grown to like it over time, coming home and not having to talk to anyone, just being able to reflect on my day and think about everything. That is the one thing I love – thinking. Well, that and writing. But for me, the two go hand in hand as I write down a lot of my more interesting thoughts.

Though for some reason, I don't feel like writing today. It still hasn't sunk in that I'm out of school, so I merely sit on the steps waiting for my brain to realize that it's summer and there is no more homework or studying to be done.

The light tinkling sound of a bell comes up behind me, and I turn from where I sit. My cat, Tokyo, is staring at me with her wide, green eyes, so piercingly it's almost as if she believes I'm going to disappear at any moment.

"Toko!" I call to her in an almost musical voice. She meows in reply and immediately runs up to me. I kiss her forehead and scratch behind her ears.

_Tokyo, you're the only one who gets me, _I think to her. I bury my face in her fur and for a moment, the world around me dissolves and is nothing but Tokyo's chest gently rising and falling as she breathes.

I hear the door creak open and immediately bolt upright.

"Brother!" I yell randomly as a slender boy with curly hair walks in. He smiles slightly.

"Hey, little sis," he replies.

I race down the stairs and give him a hug. He's one of the very few humans that actually come close to understanding me. I can't help but thinking of how much I am going to miss him when he moves away. I know that it has to happen eventually; I just pray that the time doesn't come soon.

I don't know how we became so close for a brother and sister, only that we have been through everything together – good times and bad, even times when all we wanted was to run away. To escape. When we don't want to continue going, we pull each other through and everything turns out alright in the end. I don't understand how anyone can survive without this bond.

Once my brother has left for work, I am perched on the chair in my room, looking at the big red '0' next to the word 'inbox' on my email. The clinking of keys hitting the table alerts me that my mom is home. A slight smile spreads about my face as I wonder what crazy antic she is up to today.

My mom is always cracking me up. She may be in her forties, but I swear that deep down she's still a child at heart. That is one thing I love about her. I know sometimes that means I have to take over and be the responsible one, but I have been doing that since I was little. Though my family was never strict, I set my own rules for myself and in many ways raised myself. My family was always there to help me out when times got tough, but they allowed me to become independent, to learn to rely on myself rather than trying to live within their guidelines. Sure, it gets lonely at points, but it has made me strong.

I glance at my watch. _Ack, _I think, _it's almost time to go and I haven't even started getting ready!_

--

I bustle around my house in excitement; I'm about to go hang out with one of my best friends, Mary, at our spot. I love the place so much. _But tonight is different_, I tell myself, cramming my fake wine into my backpack. _Tonight we'll wait for the moon to rule the sky before we set out. _

_Ah, summer at last, _my mind rejoices as a car shows up in my driveway. I shoulder my backpack and head out for what is sure to be an interesting night.

**Mary**

I rush up the stairs to my room at my dad's house, eager to get the weight off of my shoulders. The haul includes my clothes for the weekend, library books, my Japanese workbooks and dictionary, my laptop, my music and my miscellaneous DVDs, mostly anime. Do I have time to attend to every object? No. But I wake up in the morning and never know what I want to do, so best be prepared. And with Ashley, having everything is usually the smartest choice.

She goes with my sister into her room, her bag clunking. It must be the fake wine she picked up for us. _Hah, we're so badass,_ I think sarcastically.

Ashley is primarily my sister's friend. It's not that she likes her better than me (I like to think we're about equal). It's simply that my sister knew Ashley first and is rather possessive of her friends.

Luckily, Oneesan goes to sleep early, leaving plenty of time for Ashley and me to wreak havoc into the early hours of the morning. I would be getting very little, if any, sleep this weekend.

I sit at my computer and wait eagerly for bedtime. That is when the fun begins.

--

Sure enough, at 12:30 Ashley bounds into my bedroom, as ever full of energy. "Mary!" she says.

"Ashuri-kun…!" I yawn, my ears popping. I rub them, annoyed.

"What, are you tired already? I thought we were going to the park?"

My eyes flash to meet hers, startled. "The park? You know, I was just kidding about that," I reply slowly.

"Then what are we going to do with this wine? Sit in the closet and drink it?" She thrusts one of the bottles into my nose and I jump back, waving a hand at her.

"No. I just meant we should go tomorrow. I mean, we _can't_ go now." I think that should settle the matter. My dad would never let us leave the house this late.

"Why not?"

Exasperated, I turn to her, gaping slightly. Where has this girl's logic gone? "Do you think my dad would like that? Really… And sneaking out is impossible too; the alarm is set and if a door opens it will call the police."

"But you know the code, right?"

"Well… yeah… but-"

"Then what's the problem? Let's go!" Ashley grabs my arm and starts dragging me, despite my protests and lack of shoes to boot.

"No! I don't want to do this. What if something were to happen to us? No one would know where we were!"

"You sound like an old lady," she persists. "It's only a five minute walk from here. What could happen?"

My gape grows. That is the worst thing a person can ever say in any situation. What could happen? Anything could happen. Going anywhere is _impossible_ now, after that phrase. "No," I say sternly and plant my feet into the carpet.

Ashley frowns and releases my arm. She shrugs nonchalantly. "Suit yourself… I can always climb out through the balcony and scale the house on bed sheets."

The worst part is, I really believe she would do it.

"Oh, heck! Fine, we'll go!" I stand and stormily grab my sneakers and my cell phone before marching down the stairs. Curse peer pressure and people that know no bounds!

The house is dark, my dad, stepmother and sister asleep. I stop my tirade for fear of them waking up, though the back of my mind tells me that if they were awake I wouldn't be in this situation. I go into the kitchen, Ashley trailing behind me with the wine, and enter the code into the alarm box. There are a series of beeps and the light flashes green. Green for go. Green for leave the house and run off into the empty night.

I'm shaking slightly. I've never done anything like this in my life. I still can't see myself sneaking out of the house, but here it is happening.

"Shouldn't we wait a little bit?" I whisper hopelessly. "Just in case?"

"In case what?" Ashley says, already moving to the front door. "You're just trying to put it off. Come on, nothing's going to eat you."

Frowning, staring in awe and shock at this immovable girl molding me, her puppet, to her will, I traipse helplessly after her. It's a mistake, I know it is. I know it.

A friendly beep from the alarm system, and we are out the door.

The moon shines brightly on the neighborhood, lighting it as clearly as day. A good thing, too, since we haven't bothered to take flashlights with us.

I don't talk as Ashley leads me to the park, our footsteps echoing in the silence. Only a few houses have still-lit windows, and living cars are empty from the street. I twitch at every bug chirp and leaf blowing down the road, still waiting for us to be caught.

"You know," I breathe, "I think it's illegal for minors to be out at this time of night. I think there's a curfew."

"Do you see any cops?" Ashley says loudly. I want cry. "Mary, you worry too much. Try to have some fun, okay? We're free!" As if to prove her point, she twirls around, swinging her wine bottle dangerously close to me.

At last, we reach the park. I quickly walk into the seclusion that the trees provide, arriving at our destination even before Ashley. I climb onto my rock with a huff and cradle my cool wine bottle against my chest. Three more glances ensure that we are alone in the woods.

"I still don't like this, you know," I tell Ashley as she climbs her tower one-handed, sparing an arm for the red bottle.

"You're a crappy rebel," she replies.

I hunker over further and stare at the woodchips and sand below me. Guilt encompasses my heart.

"What if someone breaks into the house while we're here, all because I turned the alarm off?" I know the chances are slim, but irony exists. There is no such thing as coincidence.

"Stop worrying," she repeats and twists the cap off of her bottle. Shakily, I do the same and take a swig of the sweet, bubbly grape juice. It immediately calms my nerves. Odd.

"When should we head back? A couple of hours?" I suggest.

Ashley nods. "Yeah, probably. Ooh, look, there's mist! See? We would never get to see this during the day."

I direct my attention the trees beside us. A small fog glowing with moonlight is creeping up on the playground. I chuckle weakly. "Creepy. Anyone thinking 'ghostly pirates'?" Ashley doesn't reply. I look back to see her scrambling down from her perch. "What are you doing?"

"Exploring," she says and skips into the fog. It reaches up to her knees, swirling brightly.

I look behind me, suddenly feeling exposed. In seconds, I am beside Ashley, less gracefully stomping through the precipitation.

"Enjoying yourself yet?"

"…Not really…" Suddenly, the ground heaves. My bottle slips from my hand and the carbonated drink bubbles out onto the dirt. "What the heck…?"

"Earthquake?" Ashley guesses.

I shrug, completely unnerved. "I didn't think we had earthquakes here."

Again, the earth shakes under our feet, knocking me to the ground as Ashley grasps onto a nearby tree. A bright blue light fills my vision, accompanied by the crackle of electricity. Heat sweeps through my body; I scream before I know what I'm doing. Seconds later, I feel my skin turning numb. My already seared vision starts to darken. My head swimming, I call out for Ashley. I can't hear my own voice.

The woods sink into blackness and my mind is gone, but not before one last thought can creep across it –

_I told you so_…


	2. Boxers Dog or Cloth?

**Ohka Breynekai: I am very ashamed with you. That excellent chapter, and not ONE STINKIN' REVIEW!! Dandelion says "REVIEW or we will sic Elmo on you." And we all know how THAT works. If not, read Poup by Ayumi Elric. waves Hi Ayumi! :D**

**Shenhua: I'm going to be the nice one here since you are already getting threatened by everyone else... Sorry about that. Well, not completely sorry, but ya know. We would greatly appreciate reviews, however. CHAPTER TWO IS UP!! Oh, well you probably know that judging as how you are reading this, huh? OH WELL! READ IT!! **

**Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. Not us, not you, and thankfully not Ed.**

**Pshh... Disclaimers suck.**

_**

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Chapter Two: Boxers -- Dog or Cloth?

**Ashley**

The world is nothing and I am no one. For a brief instant, I do not exist. The next thing I know, I am falling. The cold cobblestones scratch my forearms that I throw out on instinct to protect my face.

_Why do I feel so strange? _I wonder. _The cobblestones are not only freezing my arms but also my legs and… Ah! _In that instant, I notice that there is nothing separating my body from the cobblestones -- no familiar cloth barrier. I push myself up quickly and look to my left. There lies an extremely muscular man with a huge 'X' shaped scar across his face. I look up and discern that we are in a ramshackle tent of sorts. Mary is huddled in the corner, failing horribly at her attempt to cover her naked body while still keeping an eye out for the stranger. I waste no time in slipping the man's jacket slowly off of him and wrapping it around my own nude self.

Afterwards, feeling a bit better being clothed and remembering Mary, I begin silently unbuttoning the man's shirt for her to wear. His chest is surprisingly smooth - not hairy in the least. I start to gently peel the sleeve off of his right arm but stop suddenly to gawk. Intricate waves of black ink stretch over the hardened brown muscles of his arm. It's a tattoo, I am sure, but it almost seems to mean something; to serve more of a purpose than just a regular decoration. It's something about the way he wears it with such utter confidence, even in his sleep.

_This is not a guy you want to mess with, _my brain warns me quickly, and I know that the sooner I get out of here, the better. I quickly grab the other sleeve, yanking it off his arm and pulling the shirt out from under him, amazed at what a heavy sleeper he is. I wad up the shirt and hurl it at Mary with nothing but a rushed "here" escaping my lips.

She gives me a look of utmost confusion, looking from me to the man, and then seems almost angry. She pulls on the shirt in spite of her anger, however, and I start looking for the exit.

Lifting the flap of the tent, I peer out only to see a gray brick wall looming ahead of me. _An alley, _I tell myself, still haunted by the question in the back of my mind: _How the heck did we get here? Wait… where is here? Where was I to begin with?_

I resolve to figure that out later – once we are past the threat of the scarred man. I motion for Mary to follow me, finally catching her attention. She timidly approaches me, nervously flattening the oversized shirt. Thinking we have no time to waste, I grab her arm and basically drag her out of the alley. I hear her attempts at asking questions but don't even pay attention to what she is saying. I can feel my adrenaline pumping. It prompts me to act, rather than worry about talking or even trying to figure out where the heck I came from and all that jazz. I can think about all of that later. Right now the important thing is – _Wait, what is the important thing? _

_Food, clothing, shelter, _my mind immediately responds as if I've been asked the question all my life. _Okay, so food? Not hungry. Clothing? Barely. Shelter? Ah hah! That's what I'm after! For doesn't food and clothing come along with shelter? _All I can do is hope.

I'm nearly running down the sidewalk now, completely unsure of what exactly it is that I'm looking for. I stop short in front of a building that seems to appear out of nowhere. _A sign? _my brain questions, but I have little time to ponder that.

Mary and I stare at the strange building. It seems to be an apartment complex of some kind.

"Should we go in?" Mary asks quietly.

"No sense in staying out here," I reply, feeling more and more uncomfortable with each moment of wearing nothing but a stranger's jacket. "I mean, no time like the present, right?"

Mary gazes at me uncertainly but follows as I head for the building. It's cooler inside and I instantly draw the jacket closer. All I can hope is that we can find some clothes or money or anything in here to help us out. I say a silent prayer and instantly start up the stairs. Mary follows, her arms across her chest to keep the stolen shirt closed tight.

When we reach the top of the stairs, I go down the hall a bit and stop to look at the door to my left. It is not necessarily special or in any way different than all the other doors in the hallway, other than that I feel pulled towards it. Not wishing to draw any attention to ourselves, I cautiously attempt to open the door rather than knocking. To my surprise, the knob turns and the door mercifully grants us entry.

I sidle in and gently close the door behind Mary. The room isn't much, but at least there's a sofa.

"Hello…?" I call out tentatively. "Anyone home?"

"I don't think anyone's here," Mary whispers. "Maybe we should go."

"Don't be silly," I say much more bravely than I feel. "Let's just see if we can find some clothes first."

_You're the one being silly, _my mind scolds. _Just listen to Mary and leave. There's no telling who lives here or what kind of trouble you'll get in when they find you. _

_Oh, shut up, _the other half of my brain argues. _Just let her do what she wants. I mean, you might as well because she'll end up doing what she wants anyways._

_Both of you shut up! _I feel like saying, but I've got to stop arguing with myself if I ever want to get some clothes.

I head towards a door at the side of the room and walk in. It turns out to be a bedroom with two beds and a dresser. I race to the dresser and begin looking through the drawers. Mary gapes at me with disbelief.

"Are you insane?"

I ignore her as I hold up some tight, black pants to myself. I can't believe it. They are too short for even me. "Who lives here, a dwarf?" I remark as I continue rummaging through the drawers. "Ah hah!" I say, finding some boxers that I may have a small possibility of squeezing into.

I stick my legs through the leg holes and begin jerking them up my legs until they finally reach my hips. I'm shocked but glad that they actually fit and find another pair that I throw at Mary.

"Here, put these on."

"Now I know you're insane! We don't even know these people and you're putting on their underwear!"

I shrug, "Better than nothing, I guess. And who are you to talk? You're wearing a complete stranger's shirt!"

"At least I actually saw him…" Mary mutters as if that made everything okay, but she pulls on the boxers anyways.

While rummaging for a shirt, I hear the front door slam closed.

_Busted!_ My mind seems to be saying. I curse silently and look expectantly at the door to the bedroom, knowing there is no time to hide now. Sure enough, a short, blonde-haired boy appears in the doorway before I have time to even attempt to move.

"What the --" I hear him say, right before I fall to my knees, clutching at my throat and wondering why, of all times, I had to get the worst asthma attack I've ever had at this particular moment. I don't have much time to wonder this, however, because my lack of breathing has caused everything around me to go a hazy black. I think I hear the faint sound of an almost melodic voice saying, "You killed her, Brother!" But I cannot be sure, for everything else seems to dissolve into the same hazy black oblivion.

**Mary**

I stare in horror as Ashley falls to the ground, gasping grotesquely for oxygen. The words _'asthma attack'_ flash across my mind, only sparking more trembles from my muscles.

The large armored man and his miniature acquaintance, the two people whose home we had invaded, are panicking beside me. The tall one screams something about the other one killing Ashley, and the accused is yelling mindlessly, blaming this all on Ashley. Each sentence they spew beats against my already struggling brain.

My movements are as through water, my limbs floating and moving in slow motion as I bend down by my friend. _Steam_, my mind tells me. _Her muscles are contracting or something; you have to make them relax so she can breathe again._

"Hey," I croak, but the others are freaking out so much that they don't hear my weak address. "Hey!" I yell at them, finally grabbing their attentions. I grab onto Ashley's arms desperately. "Help me carry her into the bathroom."

The armored man immediately rushes to my aid, lifting Ashley easily into his arms, no need for my assistance. He hurries quickly in the direction of what I hope is the bathroom; I am at his heels.

"Call 911!" I call to the blonde boy over my shoulder.

"Call _what_?" he sputters.

"_The doctor!_" I clarify, wondering how dense this person is. I can only hope again that he'll follow my instructions. So much being placed on hope tonight.

We reach the room in mere seconds, where the man lays Ashley gently on the floor. "Thanks," I nod at him, shakily plugging up the tub and twisting the hot water knob. "Now out, please," I command weakly. The little bathroom was already hard to maneuver in without his heaping mass of steel protection taking up more space.

"O-okay," he says and complies quickly. I slam the door shut behind him.

Now without the audience, tears fill my eyes as I lean over my friend. It takes too much time for the steam to fill the room, so much that I stuff towels into the cracks of the doors and windows to keep any of it from escaping. I run water through the sink for good measure. For one second I wonder if CPR would do any good, but then, would it be smart to force air through a contracted airway, if that is even the case? I don't know enough! How was I to be sure that steam was even the right answer? _Please, doctor, hurry! Please, God, get the doctor here! Let her be okay!_

I don't know what I stare at the most – Ashley's face or the door. The room begins to fog and become sticky with moisture. Ashley's breathing grows less intense, which could be one of two things – either she was dying or getting better. I pray again for the latter, and cry harder at the thought of the prior.

Ashley's eyelids suddenly blink, and she coughs roughly. "Oh!" I cry, saltwater rushing down my face. Her face twists in confusion; she opens her mouth to speak but coughs instead. I frown with overwhelming emotion, a mixture of relief and increased fear. "Are you okay?" I blurt.

Another cough plus a look that says 'Are you really asking that question?' is my reply.

"There's a doctor on the way," I tell her reassuringly. _I think…_

"Good," she croaks out, choking again on the air.

I hear the sharp rap of a fist on wood somewhere nearby. My heart leaps in its cavity. "It sounds like he's here," I tell her slowly, wiping the tears from my cheeks. And then I begin worrying about all sorts of things, such as if I should move Ashley to the living room, or if I had somehow made Ashley's condition worse by bringing her here. _But wait, she's no longer unconscious,_ I tell myself. _I must've done something right._

The armored man comes to the door of the bathroom and opens it slightly. He acts surprised by something, the steam or maybe the fact that Ashley is awake. "Hey, uh, the doctor's here."

"Uh-huh," I say. "Do we need to move her again?"

"I think," he replies, as bewildered at the situation as I am.

"Wait, where am I going?" Ashley questions roughly.

"To the doctor," I reply and step outside to let the man pass through. He scoops Ashley into his arms once more and starts off towards the front of the apartment.

Back in the "living room" – an area fused with a kitchen space and dining room – a short old man with fluffy gray hair and eyes squinted behind thick glasses stands with a briefcase. The armored man lays Ashley on the wilted red sofa in the center of the room and backs away. I see the blonde boy again, whose face is an odd shade of red and arms are crossed tightly over his chest. I now have a moment to take a closer look at him, not faced with the fear of being caught trespassing (no matter how unwilling I was to be here) or frantically trying to save Ashley. She is in the doctor's care, who already has his stethoscope pressed against her back. I try to ignore how little covering that scarred man's jacket is providing her at this moment.

No, I concentrate on this oddly colored little boy dwarfed beside a man in a seven foot tall suit of steel armor. What a pair they made! The boy is very slight, no more than 60 inches in height, with bright golden hair and eyes to match the color. He is dressed in a black shirt and pants underneath a long red jacket and is wearing white gloves. On his feet are a pair of sturdy black boots. At first glance, I might guess his age at twelve, but there is a look in his eyes that suggests an infinity of experience hiding behind them. He is surely much older than he appears.

I wonder if the armored man is his father, and then remember that the larger one had called the boy "Brother". And that was another thing to ponder over – what a voice the armored man had! It was so light and it rang like a silver bell on Christmas Eve! It was a voice that belonged to a cherub, not an imposing body decked out with spikes and horns. _What must he look like under all of that?_

My attention flicks back to the doctor and Ashley when the doctor pulls something from his briefcase and gently places it into her mouth. _An inhaler_, my mind tells me. She inhales deeply and holds her breath, though barely able to due to the coughs that still racked her body.

"Use this every time your lungs feel strained," he tells her, setting the small plastic object in the palm of Ashley's hand. He turns to me, smiling. "That was quick thinking, with the steam."

I grin back at him, blushing profusely, and mutter something incomprehensible. His eyes flit to a point beneath my face, before he ducks down to scribble something onto a sheet of yellow paper. _Huh?_ I follow his gaze and realize terribly that the stolen oversized shirt has slipped down, revealing most of my left breast…

_Holy…!_ I rip the shirt back up and secure it over everything that might be wanting to show. I look around frantically and try to discern who had seen that slip. No one is looking at me, almost purposefully. Scratch that, Ashley is looking at me, inhaler clenched in one hand, not bothering to stifle her cough-mixed laughter. _I just saved your life… traitor._ My body burns with heat; I must be the color of that boy's jacket, or a beat, or maybe a beat splattered against the jacket.

Tears burn at my eyes; I glare at the floor, ashamed.

The doctor clears his throat. "Here's the bill," he states, placing it on the coffee table in front of one snickering Ashley.

"Thank you," the armored man trills joyously. The doctor nods his fluffy, speckled head and takes his leave.

The four of us exist for a few seconds in awkward silence, accompanied only by Ashley's wheeze-laugh. _Would you shut up already?_

The boy suddenly stomps his foot on the floorboards, turning all of the room's attention to him. "Okay… so can you possibly tell me… what the _hell_ is going on here?" I flinch at his tone and again curse Ashley for dragging me in here. Maybe everything _is_ her fault, even the asthma attack… no, that's silly.

"Well, I've just suffered a near-death experience, which you considerately saved me from by buying me this fancy-schmancy inhaler. Boy, this must have cost a pretty penny!" Wow, two inches from death and already spunky again.

The boy jabs a finger at the metal device. "You're paying for that!"

"With what?" Ashley spreads her arms apart to show off her lack of personal belongings. "Do I look like I have any money?"

One side of the blonde's face twitches angrily. "Never mind that! What are you doing _here_? Why were you going through my underwear?" He is exceptionally appalled at this last action of ours.

"We needed clothes," Ashley croaks out simply, smiling innocently.

"And you think that's an excuse to steal from us?" he growls. The boy's shoulders rise menacingly; it seems like he's about to explode again. His head snaps in my direction, eyes casting me over, measuring me, and it snaps back to Ashley. But in that one instant glance, I can sense a myriad of thoughts, insult and fury among the top ten. My eyes fill with hot, ashamed tears, much different than the earlier moisture. _It's not my fault_, I want to say. My mouth is cloyed, my tongue swollen. _It's not my fault._

This evening is too much for me; appearing nude in a strange city, breaking the law, nearly losing my best friend… A sob escapes my lips.

"Ed," the armored man chides.

"Are you crying?" the blonde gawks at me. I sob again, losing my composure, and turn tail for the bathroom. I can hear Ashley's worried voice calling after me but I ignore it. I slam the door closed behind my back and lock it tightly.

I slide to the floor, curling up against the cool, still-wet wood of the door, determined to hide from the world until they stop fighting.

_No more yelling… no more yelling…_


	3. Noodles

_**Chapter Three: Sock**_

**Ashley **

I wonder if Mary hears the sound of extreme pleading in my voice as I yell for her to come back. The bathroom door slams shut.

_Great, just great. What a perfect time to run off and leave me to explain everything to the people who caught me stealing their underwear. What am I supposed to tell them, anyway? She probably remembers more than I do. Wait… does she? Oh crap. _

The blonde is staring at me with an enraged, expectant look on his face. Whatever he just asked, I must have completely missed.

"Huh?" I ask in confusion, earning me another crueler glare.

He growls in frustration, "What the HELL are you doing in _my_ dorm?" he yells, practically shaking with anger.

Resisting the urge to yell back, I try to explain to him. "I'm not completely sure. All I know is that we had to find clothes and we ended up here. Thanks for the boxers, by the way," I reply, unable to help myself from voicing the last comment.

"Are you _trying _to be funny?" the blonde replies through gritted teeth.

I smile a slightly nervous smile. "Is it working?"

_Judging by the complete and utter look of disgust we're receiving, I'd say no._

"So basically you've been running around Central half-naked this whole time?" He mercifully ignores my inappropriate question, turning back to an earlier subject matter. I open my mouth to spit back a sarcastic and hopefully witty reply.

_Wait… _

"What's Central?" I question, sure that my complete confusion is evident on my face.

"Whaddya mean 'what's Central'?"

Up until this point, I have somehow been completely unaware of the seven-foot tall mass of steel next to him, who now jumps in to help try and smooth over the other boy's abrasive attitude. "Central is a city. The one we're in now. It's pretty much the center of Amestris," he explains, his beautiful, metallic voice ringing with a welcome, yet unexpected kindness.

My confusion only grows. "What's Amestris?"

_Nice going, Self. Now not only do these people think you are a thief and a nudist, but also a complete idiot. _

My last question proves too much for the angry one to take, "Are you jerking me around?!"

_Trust me, I would not like to jerk you anywhere, _my mind automatically responds.

_That sounded extremely dirty, _I remark back to it, repressing a smile.

"No, I honestly don't know," I say as seriously as I can.

The glare in the boy's golden eyes softens almost imperceptibly, but I can tell he is still angry. "Then where did you two come from?"

All the questions I've been avoiding answering myself are now coming back to me at full force. I look down at the carpet and shake my head slightly. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Then how did you end up _here_?"

I glance up at him with tired eyes, finally feeling my adrenaline level declining and the weight of what seemed an extremely long day weighing on me. "I don't know," I repeat wearily.

"Geez! Why do I even bother asking you anything?" he says, more to himself than to me.

My eyelids begin to droop right as I hear the armored man's kind voice coming to my aid yet again. "Ed," he begins explaining to the other, "I think I know what's going on here. I heard about it once when you were in the hospital. I think this girl has amnesia."

_You go Armored Man, _my brain seems to be saying with a slight slur, uncommon to its usual peppiness.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," he says to the other with increasing annoyance, then turns to me. "You mean you don't remember anything?"

"My name's Ashley," I yawn, hoping he understands so that I don't have to repeat myself.

"Great, that tells me a _lot,_" he says, his tone thick with sarcasm. But before I even think of a reply, my head is rested against the back of the couch, my eyes shut.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? You can't sleep there!"

"Ed, just leave her alone. Don't you think she's been through enough for one night?"

_Yeah, Ed. Just leave me… _But my thoughts go unfinished as I dissolve into the realm of dreams.

---

A bright light comes filtering through my eyelids. I groan at this interruption to my dreams. They were so weird. Weirder than normal. I slightly remember something about an armored dude and a short guy. My eyes blink open and I yawn, sinking my head deeper into the soft pillow trying to remember more details of the incredibly strange dream.

_There was a scarred man, some boxers, a red couch…_

My eyes snap open; my vision fills with red. I quickly throw back the cover and see that I'm in an oversized jacket and some pretty tight boxers. Pulling the cover back over my scantly-clad body, what I thought was a dream comes rushing back into my brain.

_Ohhh crap… Hang on – I don't remember there being a cover. Or a pillow either, for that matter. _

The creaking of the front door opening makes me jump in surprise and, sure enough, there's Armored Man walking through the door with what looks like a shopping bag.

_Why does he need to go shopping? It's not like anyone actually sees him under all that metal anyway…_

"Oh, good. You're up," he addresses me. I look around to make sure that I'm the one he's talking to. I don't see anyone else.

"Where's Mary?" I quickly question, suddenly worried about my friend.

"Mary?" he inquires, "Oh, your friend. She never came out of the bathroom."

I jump up, wrapping the jacket around me securely and rush to the bathroom door. "Mary, open up!" I yell, knocking frantically and hoping she didn't escape and leave me here with two strangers. The door opens just a crack and I see her peering out.

"Ashley… What's going on?" she asks, opening the door wider upon seeing me.

"I don't know. Do you not remember anything either?"

"No. I was hoping you did," she admits, giving up her last bit of hope and taking mine as well.

After a pause, I become strangely uncomfortable with the situation; her taking refuge in the bathroom, Armored Man behind me, and me in the middle, completely exposed. "Umm… I have to pee," I say, trying to rearrange the position to something a bit more suitable and genuinely needing to go.

Mary seems reluctant to step out of her shelter but, to my surprise, does so quite quickly to let me in. When I come out, I cannot believe my eyes and almost dart back into the bathroom. The coffee table is covered with a bright pink fabric, poofing out at the strangest points. Closer examination shows it to be a dress… A bright pink poofy dress… I begin to feel sick.

_Please, oh God, tell me that is not for me._

"Ashley?" I hear the strangely familiar light voice that once sounded so helpful and kind now sounding like an executioner escorting me to the electric chair. My eyes glance at the pile of pink poof once more and then back to the armor.

"He got us dresses to wear," Mary informs me, keeping her voice carefully controlled and trying her best to sound happy. One thing I do remember – Mary's a terrible actress.

"Oh," I reply, not taking my eyes off the dress and not even bothering to try and hide the fear mingled with disgust from my eyes. "Umm… Thanks for the thought, I mean, I appreciate it but…" I look at Armored Man and then avert my eyes to the floor, ashamed, "I – I really don't do pink and poofy. I'm sorry."

I feel awful. Here is a guy that has taken me in, not knowing a thing about me. A guy who has stood up for me and been kind when he could've just let the other guy – was his name Ed? – kick me out on the streets in a strange town. And now he's gone above and beyond by getting up early and buying something for me to wear, but how do I repay him?

_Selfish, ungrateful little brat, _my mind chides me for my pride.

"Oh…" is my only reply and he too seems to become very interested in the floor.

Noticing the uncomfortable tension in the air, Mary quickly jumps in.

"I'll try mine on," she assures him and, dress in hand, walks back into the bathroom.

_Gosh… What a saint she looks like compared to me. Armored Man is still keeping his eyes away. I don't blame him. _

I stare up at the ceiling to keep my eyes dry. It's strange. I remember that I hardly ever cry except for when I hurt someone else's feelings. I wonder if I should say something to him again but Mary shuffles out of the bathroom before I know what to say. I'm surprised when I see the pink poof once again over her shoulder and her still in the oversized shirt. It seems to me that she's holding in tears too.

"It didn't fit…" she confesses, allowing a tear to slide down her cheek.

_No... No, don't cry, _I think, _you know I don't deal with crying well -- not even my own. _

Mary begins to turn red and I rush over to soothe her before she has the chance to run away again.

"It's okay," I say, grasping her shoulder and trying to be comforting, something I've never been good at, "We… We'll go shopping and get you some new clothes."

Mary glances over at me through her teary eyes. "We... don't have… any money," she chokes out.

"We'll get some," I assure her, not knowing how, but knowing that I have to pull her out of her depression.

"I could take you shopping," Armored Man offers. His voice catches me off guard and I gape at him in disbelief. I can tell he is still flustered from earlier and even more from Mary's tears, but here he is trying to help again. The kindness makes my chest feel tight and brings back the feeling of my hot tears about to spill.

_Why does he have to be so nice? Ahh! Now I feel even worse about what I said. _

"Really?" I say, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes without actually letting them fall, "Thank you."

Mary's tomato-red face gradually fades into pink and begins going back to its normal color. I watch the colors for lack of anything better to do and without knowing the specifics of when we're going shopping and what we're going to wear out of the house. My peripheral vision catches sight of a door flying open and I turn my head to see the blonde, Ed, trudging out of the room in a pair of light blue boxers, the same kind of boxers Mary and I are wearing. He rubs his eyes sleepily and heads straight for the refrigerator, not bothering to look at anyone; not even seeming to notice anyone.

_Whoa… How strange -- an arm and a leg of metal. And, now that I think about it, Armored Man is metal, too. Maybe they're not strange. Maybe I am. Is it possible that everyone here is metal in some way? _My mind flashes to the scarred man, _No, he wasn't metal…_

Rumbling and chinking noises come from the refrigerator and I look over to see Ed's butt sticking out as he hunts for food. _Well, that's attractive, _I think sarcastically. His face appears above the fridge door and I see that he's found a bowl of noodles and is now scarfing them down. He stops mid-chew when he catches sight of me. Noodles hang from his mouth. He glances over to Mary, then Armored Man, and back to me.

"You," he says in shock, noodles falling out of his mouth and onto the floor. "What are you still doing here?"

My eyes follow the noodles on their trip to the floor and it takes me a second to realize who he's talking to. "He's taking us shopping," I say, pointing at Armored Man, who seems to have a knack for getting in the middle of things.

_Come to think of it, I have the same problem… _

"You're doing what?" he yells at the suit of armor, "And how are you going to afford it? You don't have any money!"

"Well," he hesitates, "Ed, come on. They don't know where they're from or how they got here and they really need clothes."

"What's that?" Ed says in disgust, eying the mass of pink poof still sprawled out on the coffee table.

"Uh… well, I thought I'd get them dresses to wear, but…" he breaks off, seeming a bit embarrassed at remembering what has just passed, "It… didn't really work out," he finishes lamely.

Ed keeps staring, unsure of what to think, but guessing that something uncomfortable had happened before he appeared and knowing better than to ask.

"So…" Armored Man begins again, seeing that his companion isn't going to reply, or possibly hoping he won't ask, "Do you think you can change these dresses into something for them to wear for a while?"

_Wait – change them? What does he do, sew? _

The image in my mind is so hilarious that I find it impossible for me not to laugh, and I have to put my hand over my mouth and pretend to cough to cover it.

"Aw, hell. Fine already," Ed replies as he marches up to the dress, scans me once with his eyes, and claps his hands together. The next thing that happens makes me sure this must still be my dream. A blue flashing light, strangely familiar looking though I can't remember how, engulfs the pink and the next thing I know, it's a plain white t-shirt and strange-looking pants with random pink gaudy looking dragons and spikes.

"Oh, wow," I say, trying to keep the shock out of my voice, but at the same time trying not to sound too impressed. "But, umm… What's up with the dragons?" I ask with a 'what the hell is that' look on my face.

Armored Man laughs lightly and I can tell that somehow me insulting this guy's taste has made him feel a bit better about his own. It probably also helped that I was a lot nicer to him than Ed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Any requests?" he retorts sarcastically.

"Well," I begin, "You _could _turn it into a skirt. A white skirt. A _plain _white skirt. And make the shirt a different color."

I am now on the receiving end of an incredulous stare.

_Yes, I do realize you weren't wanting or expecting an answer. But you asked, so get used to it._

Oddly enough, he complies to my demands, probably not wanting to get involved in further debate with me at the moment.

In the end, I wind up with a pink tee-shirt and a plain white skirt. Mary's lack of preference earns her a white shirt with pink pants. It appears that he gave up on designs.

I step out of the bedroom after changing. Strangely enough, Ed is clothed, though I can't figure out where on earth he changed, considering Mary and I were occupying the only extra rooms. Mary is already on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, but seeming truly happy with having clothes that fit.

"You're still wearing the jacket?" the blonde observes indignantly.

I look down for effect, "It would appear so."

"Why?"

I hesitate. I realize that I have been pretty bold with this guy the whole time, but that's only because he's been yelling and giving me disgusted glares the whole time, not to mention challenging everything I say or do. "I don't have a bra," I reply, emotionless. Mary's eyes widen in shock and it appears to be Ed's turn to crimson.

"Time to go," is my only reply as he marches out the door. The three of us quickly follow.

---

Once Mary and I are fully underclothed and dressed in the basics – with me extremely glad to be back in jeans – we get to the real part of shopping; the fun part. Ed drags like a log behind us, while Armored Man seems genuinely interested in our choices.

"Hey, Arm—" I stop myself and it dawns on me that I don't know his name. "Uhh… What's your name?" I ask, feeling bad for not knowing.

"Huh? Oh, it's Alphonse," he responds in his increasingly cute voice.

"Alphonse?" I question, completely intrigued. He nods slightly.

_A beautiful voice and name? What are the odds?_

"That's amazing!" I remark, smiling.

"Really?" he asks, uncertain.

"Yes it's… beautiful." I don't know what it is, but for some reason I already feel comfortable enough around him to say these things.

"Th- Thank you," he stammers slightly.

_I hope he doesn't think I'm hitting on him or anything, _I worry quickly.

Smiling again, I begin to shuffle away from the aisle to search for something a bit more interesting. After turning a few corners, I enter a new section, giving my mind a terrible, awful idea.

_Ohh, this will be fun._

**Mary**

I absentmindedly run my fingers over the clothes laid out on the tables, already having changed into a plain brown shirt and blue jeans. I bought, with the blonde boy's – _Ed's_ – money, several more outfits like it; I'm sure he was thankful for my frugality.

Unlike Ashley – dragging us from store to store, wanting to purchase everything down to the very last sock. Alphonse's arms grow heavy with shopping bags, and I marvel at his strength. Holding up that suit of armor _and_ all of Ashley's belongings… that deserves a big 'wow'. I keep wondering, though, why I haven't seen this guy in the flesh. Why did he wear this armor, even around their dorm? I would ask, but it felt rude, for what if Alphonse is covering some grotesque disfiguration?

I know Ashley will touch on the subject eventually, so for the time being, I keep quiet.

Besides, I have much more important matters dominating my thoughts. While Ashley is content to run carelessly around this foreign city, I can only feel an intensifying blizzard of fear: we both have amnesia. I can understand this phenomenon afflicting me, or her, or both of us months apart. But at the same time, in the same manner? It can't be a coincidence.

Where had we been last…? Perhaps we were being used as test subjects in horrible scientific experiments. I impulsively glance over my arms for needle marks, thankfully finding 'zilch'… which doesn't necessarily _disprove_ that theory, but I refuse to jump to conclusions without proper evidence.

_What else…_ I thrum my fingers impatiently against my leg while my brain delves further into its musings.

My memory begins in the tent with the scarred man. We were naked, and he was asleep. Is it rational to think he may have been involved? Rape? And loss of memory from trauma? However, both Ashley and I were relatively unharmed, and I expect someone would be close to death, in the case of a violent rape. And violent rape would be necessary to cause amnesia.

So, what else might the scarred man have done to us, if anything at all? If only we could find him again… His face suddenly flashes through my mind, dark and dangerous, even in sleep. Like a dozing dragon. I realize I wouldn't want to encounter this man again.

…_It's funny how amnesia works. _It wasn't until I finally calmed down and tried to sort out my location last night that I realized there were gaps in my memory. Perhaps if I was at home I wouldn't even have noticed. Wherever home was.

Yet I can remember pure _knowledge_. How else would I have known how to react to Ashley's asthma attack? There were merely no examples to draw from, as though everything I knew was a truism. The sun rises in the morning and sets at night. Why? I don't know, but it does, every day.

_Actually, that has to do with Earth's gravitational relationship to the sun… maybe that wasn't the best example to use… Anyway. _

Why do I remember Ashley? Or do I remember her? I know we saw each other a lot… I know her personality well enough to predict some of her actions…

And what in the world had Ed done this morning to make our clothes? Magic? Magic doesn't exist, and I'm sure I would remember the existence of magic over… what? My last name? I can't even remember that.

I frown. None of my examples are verifying anything I'm saying. Though the argument is directed to myself, it still frustrates me that I can't support any of my points.

_Hmm… It can't be exclusive to Ed – the nonchalance he performed the trick with made it clear it wasn't a secret._

So.

"Are you okay, Mary?" Alphonse asks tentatively, breaking me from my thoughts with a start. I swallow and nod my head for 'yes'. I realize we had been standing side by side over a table for some time without exchanging any comments. I couldn't speak, though. After the scandals of last night, there was nothing I could say to convince him that I wasn't a sniffling klutz.

"You're thinking about your amnesia, aren't you?" I glance at him with suspicion, confirming his hypothesis. He looks away. "I thought so. It must be terrifying."

"Yeah…"

"Not that long ago, I was convinced that I couldn't remember my childhood. I started questioning everything around me, and I felt completely alone. I know it's not _quite_ the same thing, but… You can't give up hope. I'm sure everything will work out eventually."

"Thank you."

Alphonse pauses and abruptly changes the subject. "I'm sorry about this morning."

"What?" Guilt hits me once again; I turn on Alphonse in a panic. "Why are you sorry? We're the ones that showed up on your doorstep! You didn't _have _to help us, you didn't _have_ to buy us anything. It's not your fault I'm so fat…"

The armored man interrupts quickly. "You're not fat! I'm just not used to buying clothes, especially for girls."

"…It was really nice of you, though."

I'm sure he smiles at that. He shuffles and the bags and boxes sway in his arms.

"You want me to carry anything?" Maybe I can repay part of his kindness.

"Huh? Oh, these? No, I'm okay. I hardly notice they're there." And he didn't seem to notice. I swear, a normal person's arms would be breaking about now.

"I'm sorry Ashley's using you as a pack mule. She does the same to me."

He shrugs as much as he can in the armor. "I really don't mind." Another pause. "Ashley has a lot of energy, doesn't she?"

I laugh. "_Too _much."

We seem to notice it at the same time.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"She's been gone for…"

"Quite a while."

"This store isn't that big."

I study Alphonse's luggage, nearly blocking his vision now, and say, "I'll look for her," before walking off. A pressure recedes from my chest, and I relax, safe away from the awkward conversation with the armored man.

I jog around tables and through aisles, scanning the small store for Ashley. _Why does she have to be so short?_ Near the entrance to the building, I run into Ed. He is slouched against a wall, arms crossed and expression bored. Nervousness again flutters in my stomach, but I press through it.

"Hey, um…" The golden eyes slide lazily to meet me. "Have you seen Ashley?"

"Who?"

I blink. "My friend."

"Oh, right. Then, no, I haven't." Ed rolls his shoulders in their sockets and crunches his neck on both sides. He notices I'm still standing there. "Anything else?"

"Oh, um…" I blush. "No, nothing." I turn to retreat again into my quest, but halt at the sudden sound of shoes slapping against the floor, quickly growing closer and louder. Ashley bursts into view, and my eye begins to twitch. I hear a startled, "The hell?" behind me.

Ashley is wearing a pair of long black pants and a blue tank top, but the adorning articles are what capture our attentions. Over her clothes is a pair of yellow boxers decorated by dancing monkeys and a lime green bra with day-glow pink polka dots.

The girl stands proudly in front of us, hands on hips like a superhero, grinning triumphantly. All she's missing is an obnoxious red cape. "Ta da!"

Another set of footsteps approach us, sounding like the cacophony of a toddler set loose amongst a collection of pots and pans. Alphonse runs in from my right. "Great! You found… her? Uh… Ashley? What are you wearing?"

"The most amazing outfit conceived by mankind! BAM!" She bumps one hip to the side, causing the monkeys on her boxers to boogie ferociously. "I'm _getting_ these boxers!"

"_Why_?" Ed and I ask in unified exasperation. I blush again and let him do the questioning. He glances at me before continuing. "Why do you need boxers? You're a girl! Girls are supposed to wear… well, you know." So he's not comfortable talking about the opposite sex's underwear? Or else he doesn't know what we wear underneath it all. _Hmm…_ I want to grin goofily at the thought.

Until I remember the atrocities of last night, and then I curl further into my ball of safety.

"I have a bra, too," Ashley retorts, stroking one of the straps. "Mmm… sexy cotton."

Ed curls up one fist and shakes it at her. "I've already spent who knows how many cenz on you, little girl." Ashley yells indignantly. "I can understand a couple of outfits, a pair of shoes. But the swimsuit, the floral hats, all that glittery crap… and now _this_?"

"Ed," Alphonse begins to chide.

"You can't honestly be okay with her wasting all of our money like this? Yeah, I get it, she has amnesia, everything's new to her, we should support her and try not to upset her… But you know what? This is stupid. She's using us, Al."

"But-"

"No but's, Al." He points one gloved finger at Ashley. "You. Take that stuff off. Now."

Ashley narrows her eyes and raises up on her toes. "Make me, _little boy._"

"I'm leaving," I say, suddenly intensely emotional. I turn – nails digging into my shaking palms – and glide out through the door. I hear Ashley try to follow me but get stopped by the store manager.

I keep walking, and walking, and walking… The streets of downtown Central City are lined with shops and filled with people. Conscious of Stranger Danger, I pretend to have a purpose, like all of these determined people around me. And I keep walking and walking…

I reach the edge of the store fronts and discover that they rest on a hill, after which the street slopes down into a residential district. I can see the sun in the west, low in the sky, dangling above a distant ocean of trees. _This late already…? And what have we accomplished?_ The pointlessness of our day weighs down upon me, inflating the size of the city and the span of my amnesia.

_Maybe I can't remember anything because I didn't exist until now. Or maybe I have no family, no life, nothing _to_ remember…_ I feel incredibly alone in this huge world. Suddenly, I want to be back in the closet of a clothing store, laughing at how spontaneous my best friend is.

...My best friend. That's what she is.

I turn my back to the sun and peer into the bustling capitol. But I don't recognize anything, so fixated was I on my anger and my sadness and my fake determination.

_I didn't turn any corners, so I can backtrack… but do I even remember the store they were in? Are they still there?_

…

_Why didn't anyone follow me?_

My eyes well with tears. Hopeless, I collapse on a nearby bench and watch the unfamiliar world flit by. I wait, staring into nothingness.

"Hey!" a voice yells from my left. It's familiar, strangely enough, but I don't seem to care. Surely they aren't talking to me. Footsteps thump against the ground and people complain as they are shoved out of the way. Ed runs out of the crowd and halts, panting, in front of me.

"Dammit…" he breathes. "What were you thinking?"

I stare at him, amazed. Of all the people who might have come, I expected him last.

"What are you doing here?"

"Whaddya mean? Looking for you!"

"Why?"

"Why? Because… somebody had to! Long-haired girl's being accused of shoplifting and Al sent _me_ after you."

"And you came?"

"Of course. You can't be wandering around Central in the middle of the night. There are dangerous people living here."

"…I'm sorry."

"…Yeah. Yeah, you should be." He crosses his arms over his chest, seeming satisfied. I stand up slowly, wanting dignity, but feeling like the five-year-old scolded for sticking her hand in the cookie jar.

"Why'd you storm out like that, anyway?" Ed asks as we begin to walk back to the store.

I look over at him. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his red coat. His countenance isn't angry, but thoughtful, and his voice is surprisingly calm.

Quietly, I say, "I don't know."

"You have to know," Ed counters. I grimace at the sidewalk. "What, did she embarrass you?"

"Not really… I… just really hate it when people fight around me. I get scared."

The blonde boy looks away, carrying a hint of guilt. Or so I imagine. "Huh."

"But, I was also mad. At Ashley. She doesn't seem to care that we have amnesia. It's all one big game to her."

Ed frowns. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so."

"Hmm?"

"It's weird that you both have amnesia at the same time, even more so that you woke up nude in the middle of the city."

"I agree. So, we should be figuring out what happened-"

"Instead of _shopping_."

Our eyes meet for one second.

"Then do you care about what happens to us?"

He looks somehow shocked but quickly laughs and folds his hands behind his head. "I just want you out of my dorm and my wallet! I don't have the time to care for lost puppies."

"Huhn…" _Lost puppies?_

A few minutes later, we meet up with Ashley and Alphonse in front of the clothing store. Ashley pounces on me, squeezing me in a crushing hug.

"Ahh!" I cry out. "Ed! She's _hugging _me!"

"Uh huh!" She releases me and grins. "Where did you run off to?"

I point down the road, shrugging half-heartedly. "Over there."

Ashley seems suspicious but doesn't push me any further. She'll interrogate me later, when we are away from the brothers.

"Apparently I look like a shoplifter."

"I've always thought so," I laugh.

"Now," Ed interjects, glaring at Ashley. "We're done shopping. We're going back to the dorms to talk about his whole amnesia deal."

"_Good_," Ashley says. "I was getting bored." I twitch again, while Ed looks ready to punch the girl.

We finally depart for Ed and Alphonse's dorm as the sun dips beneath the hillside. _I guess everything's okay now_. No one was fighting, and at last we were going to investigate the circumstances behind our memory loss. _Now I just have to figure out what to say when they start questioning us._ My mind whirls around possible scenarios, comfortable in the safety of logic.


End file.
